


A Special Day For Him

by Fallencellist



Series: Slightly Above Average Hero and Villain's Love [5]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Truama, Íþróttaálfurinn is an a-hole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:11:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallencellist/pseuds/Fallencellist
Summary: It would be the same as every birthday was for Robbie Rotten: alone. Or, perhaps it would be different this time now with Sportafluff





	

**Author's Note:**

> Since it's only a day off of my own birthday I decided to do a little something with Robbie's birthday! There is angst at the beginning and a bit of violence in the middle with Íþróttaálfurinn, but it gets fluffy and happy at the end! Let me know what you think and hope you enjoy! 
> 
> If you are looking for extras and updates about cute Robbie/Sportarobbie stuff you can check out [this blog that I just found](https://criminalvillainnumberone.tumblr.com/)

There it was, that day normally people would be excited and happy as they waited for their friends to come into their home, arms wide for hugs as some others carried large presents. There would be a birthday cake aglow with the same number of candles that their age was going to be, at the table and streamers hung around the room. It would be bright, cheerful and full of life! All birthdays were that way. 

Or, most birthdays were supposed to be that way. His wasn’t. They never were bright, or cheerful, or full of life. There were no kids with arms wide for hugs while others carried presents. No streamers hanging around, no fancy cake. Just silence. Silence like all those other birthdays he had. 

There was one thing he had been thankful for when he was an adult: he didn’t have to deal with his parents on his birthday. He didn’t mind on occasion when he got a letter from his mother. She was trying to make amends for what happened in the past, but it still made his chest tighten with every package and every letter he got from her. 

Today there was no letter, no package, and no presents. Another typical birthday. At least he wasn’t in jail for the day. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory, doing his best to push it out of his mind. 

That was the past he never wanted to dwell or go back to in memory lane. He wished on multiple times to use his Memory Sucker 3000 to try to take it away, but that would take everything away. 

He didn’t want to forget everything, only the crippling pain of his past. Yet, didn’t they always say your past forms you into who you are today? That didn’t give him much comfort either, since he was the villain, that his past made him into that; his past or maybe just stupid fate, either way it sucked at times. 

It was fun to be the villain, don’t get him wrong, but it wasn’t fun to lose all the time, and it wasn’t fun to sit alone in your home on that special day with only yourself to wish you a happy birthday. 

So here he sat, body pressed into the orange fuzzy chair, legs curled up against his chest and arms wrapped around said legs why a blanket lay draped over his body. 

He lay in the chair on his side, his face resting against the arm. Beside him was the orange table, small and tall that held the strange looking phone and a plate with a large slice of deep purple cake. One red candle lay lit upon the cake, flickering in the dimmed lights of the lair. He didn't want to try to fit all the candles on that single slice of cake to represent his age, it didn't matter. The cake was untouched, a rare sight in the walls of the lair. 

The fact that the cake wasn’t already consumed was concerning. Yet, Robbie Rotten, a fan of fine flavors of cake, didn’t touch it; he didn’t even look at the gooey yummy desert. His gray-blue eyes were gazing into nothingness. 

He was used to this lonely feeling, but today it was worse. It was like an aching pain that spread all through his nerves, making him feel nothing. It felt like he was in an empty void, floating aimlessly in a pit of despair. 

Not even that flipping, flopping, cute—damn it that wasn’t supposed to go there—elf came to even say hello to him when he was above ground! Well, to be fair he didn’t recall if he had told anybody, including the blue elf, when his birthday was. Though, he remembered something that made him cringe away from ever trying to put his birthday on the calendar that hung in the town hall. 

_“Villain’s don’t get their birthdays celebrated until they become a functioning member of society.”_

Those words, that voice made him flinch every time he would think about it. A grim reminder that he was the villain, and they never got happy endings no matter what. His arm ached from the memory, causing him to rub away the ghostly pain. 

Perhaps he would try—go up there and put down the date on the calendar. Finally put on the day: “Robbie’s Birthday.” It would probably be too late for any of those kids to notice it and either throw a big fit about it or try to do something about it. 

But could he do it? 

There was no harm in trying at least. 

Robbie carefully came out of his nestled cocoon between the blanket and the chair. He moved cautiously towards the way out, like a newborn just walking on his legs. He was unsteady on his feet, having been in that position for perhaps a bit too long. 

It took him what felt like hours just to climb to the surface, get open the hatch—after smashing his fingers a few times—and out into the evening air. Good, he wouldn’t have to deal with too many screaming playing children on his mission. 

To his dismay, the kids were wide awake and outside, playing tag. Ugh, didn’t they know evening was time to relax and get a nap in before going to bed? 

The tall striped man growled under his breath, hoping to slip by them without drawing attention, or getting too much of a headache from their screeching voices. He was successful in one part, but not in the other. 

A gasp caught his attention, noticing that the youngest of the group, Zaggy, or was it Zippy, had his eyes on him, “Robbie Rotten!” The other kids stopped their playing, turning their attention to him, “What are you doing here?” 

That was a wonderful greeting. 

“I’m a resident of Lazy Town,” Robbie snapped at the kid, “I can walk around if I want to!” He had hoped they would leave it at that, and continued walking towards the town hall. 

“You never just ‘walk around,’” The snooty voice of Stingy followed him, showing that clearly the kids didn’t catch the drift that he was walking away to signal the conversation was over, “You’re always up to something.” 

“Yeah,” Trixie caught up with the long-legged man, eyeing him suspiciously, “What are you doing at the town hall? Trying to take something from the Mayor?” 

It took all his effort not to snap. He couldn’t get angry at them, it wasn’t their fault they were so naïve and unable to understand that Robbie Rotten wasn’t always up to no good. Simply, he just replied, “None of your business, now go back to playing with each other.” That could have gone better. 

“Humph!” Stingy stuck his nose up in the air, “How rude! Maybe we should call Sportacus on him!” 

Ugh, that kid was stupid sometimes. Sportacus wasn’t like a dog that would attack on command, though that could help. 

“Go ahead,” Robbie shot a glance over his shoulder to the kid, “Call Sportakook for all I care.” He threw his hands up in a dramatic fashion—maybe if he played the part of making it look like he was doing something sinister, they’d leave him alone. 

Sure enough the kids left, mumbling to themselves. This left him with peace and quiet. It gave him plenty of time to write down those two words and get back to his lair before anybody was the wiser. 

Quietly, the villain slipped into the town hall, greeted by stillness and silence. By this time, Bessie and the mayor were out and back home, having a lovely dinner either alone or together. How oblivious the mayor was to that woman’s nature was almost sickening. He was so head-over heels in love that he never noticed that she was using him. 

Oh well, that wasn’t his concern—it had nothing to do with him, so it was of no importance. His eyes scanned the room, looking for the calendar. One would think it wouldn’t be hard to find since it usually was larger than the average calendar, and had bright colorful pictures on the top of the page. 

On top of the mayor’s desk was where he found it. A soft laugh of triumph escaped his throat before he snuck skillfully over to the desk. He wiggled his fingers, before pulling out a pen—with deep purple ink of course. 

And he stared… and stared… and stared. 

His hand didn’t move, his eyes unblinking. Not a single muscle twitched, body ridged, and his breath short. It felt suffocating being in there, the air before forcefully ripped from his lungs. It was horrifying, yet he couldn’t move. A small drop of ink dripped onto the very day he was going to write on. 

His mind rushed, panic filling the reaches of his mind. He couldn’t do it. His hand began to shake, feeling the memories flooding back up into his mind. 

He was younger at the time, just coming into the town. It was established that he would become the villain of Lazy Town—when Nine noted you were trouble, you became trouble and trouble would follow you. 

It was an evening when he went into the town hall, a smile on his lips. They had just finished celebrating a kid’s birthday when Mayor Meanswell mentioned the calendar. All the birthdays of the residents of Lazy Town was on this calendar to make sure they were celebrated. 

An actual enjoyable birthday sounded like a swell thing to Robbie, so he decided he would add his own name to the calendar. 

As he began writing his name a presence loomed behind him. In a second the pen was ripped from his hand, scaring him stiff. Next came the sound of the pen being snapped in half, bits of ink staining his suit. 

“Hey!” he was barely able to get out those words before he was forcefully slammed against the desk. A few papers fell off the table, some objects jumping at the force as if they were scared as well. 

His arm was painfully twisted behind his back as he felt hot breath against his neck. The breathing was thick in his ears, a low laugh coming from the presence, “Hallo,” he whispered with a grin, “What do you think you’re doing, Glæpur?” That voice was all too familiar. 

Robbie shivered against his will, his lip curling into a small sneer, “I don’t know who this Glæpur is,” he attempted to glance over his shoulder before he was forcefully slammed farther into the table, “My name is Robbie Rotten!” 

Another laugh came from the elf, “Don’t think your disguises trick me,” He leaned closer, his large body pressed against the thinner body of Robbie, “but I will repeat myself: what are you doing here?” 

“What does it look like Ibrophen?” He couldn’t help but smirk when purposefully messing up the elf’s name, “I’m putting my shopping list on the calendar so I won’t forget.” 

That wasn’t his smartest move. One moment he was on his feet, the next he was knocked to the ground by a powerful blow to his skull. His brain was dazed so badly it was hard to tell if the blow was a kick or a punch. 

“You were going to add your birthday to the list?” Íþró shook his head at him, letting out a _tisk tisk_ , “That’s not allowed you know.” The elf leaned down, picking up Robbie by the throat. He brought him close, eyes narrowed dangerously. 

The next sentence he spoke was slow, meticulous and said in the most intimidating fashion—which was a feat for him, “Villains don’t get their birthdays celebrated until they become a functioning member of society.” 

Everything from there was just a blur of pain and humiliation. Robbie didn’t care to remember the details—he would rather not remember them. He just remembered those words every time he laid eyes on a calendar; that was probably the reason why he could never tell what day it was without asking somebody and there was never a whisper of a calendar in his home. 

He hadn’t been able to process what had happened, but now he was a crumbled mess on the floor, mumbles escaping him in incoherent slurs. His brain didn’t even register when somebody rushed into the room. 

The only thing that did register was the hand on his shoulder. This caused him to cringe back, pulling himself into his body even further, “Please…” He barely whimpered out, “No more…” 

“Robbie!” Another familiar voice, but this one was… soothing. The hand crept further down his shoulder, another one wrapping underneath the nook of his knees. Gently he was lifted off the ground, a comforting warmth pressing against his side. His muscles began to relax, the fear and panic dissipating from his mind. 

Finally, he opened his eyes. His gaze was met by the soft blue eyes that were clouded with worry. Sportacus. That crystal in his chest must have warned him about the distress. Great, another embarrassing moment for his hero to find him in. 

“Robbie,” Sportacus called out again, not sure if the villain was fully aware yet or not, “Robbie, are you okay?” He watched as the gray-blue eyes stared into his. He seemed aware, yet still distant. 

“I…” the man started, hesitated for a moment, “I’m fine.” 

The elf let out a sigh of relief, before glancing to the desk. A new pen was lying next to the calendar, a blotch of ink fallen from the pen now staining the calendar, “What were you going to write on the calendar?” His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach when he saw fear envelop the eyes of the man in his arms. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Robbie quickly spewed out, wringing his hands together to try to stop them from shaking, “I wasn’t writing anything.” He calmed down quickly when Sportacus gave him a kiss on the chin. 

“What were you doing?” The elf whispered to him softly, hoping not to scare him this time. 

Luckily, it worked. Robbie let out a sigh before resting his head against Sportacus’, “I was going to write my birthday on the calendar.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Sportacus gave him a concerned look, holding him as close as he possibly could. The elf knew he needed to get his villain to a more comfortable spot, he could tell when the man was about to pass out, and this was one of those moments. 

As predicted, Robbie was out like a light, his breathing soft. Stress was never a good thing, and often Sportacus would lecture his love about the importance of managing the stress, yet Robbie would always get too stressed. Maybe this wasn’t stress, he couldn’t tell right now. 

Before he left the office, he took a quick glance to the calendar, noticing that the drop of ink was on the 10th of the month, today. Was today Robbie’s birthday? He decided to ask that later, but for now he had to get the man to a comfortable spot. 

The first place that came to his mind was the man’s own home, but that would require him going through that tunnel, and doing that with Robbie passed out may not be the best idea. The only other place that came to his mind was his airship. It would take some maneuvering, but he could make that work. 

From there Sportacus made his way to where he left the airship, hardly noticing the concerned calls of the children: he was on a mission and he had to complete it. Robbie was still in trouble and he had to make sure he got it resolved—and not just for the crystal, but for himself. 

Under the airship, Sportacus took a moment to look at Robbie. When he found nothing was changed, he gently placed the lanky man on the nearby bench. He would bring down the smaller aircraft and bring him up that way. 

In two shakes of a leg, Sportacus climbed up to the airship. He jumped into the seat of the aircraft before pulling the lever to drop it out the clear glass bottom. 

It was only a few moments before he swooped down from the sky. Nearby he left it to hover only a bit above the ground to go retrieve his lover. 

Gently he picked up the villain before placing him in front of the seat. From there he sat down himself. With the seatbelt safely over him and Robbie, he took off back up into the sky. It was another quick trip back up. 

Safely inside the comfort of the airship, Sportacus lifted Robbie out and held him close. Softly he called out, “Bed,” making sure not to say it too loud to wake the man. The bed slid out from the wall, creating a surface to place the villain on. 

Once Robbie was laying on the bed, the elf sat on the other side, keeping a watchful eye on him. 

Eventually, he began to feel tired, noticing that it was approaching eight o-eight. Letting out a tired yawn, Sportacus laid down next to Robbie, closing in the space between them. The bed wasn’t made for holding two people, but he would try his best to make sure neither fell off. 

He slipped one hand under the resting body of Robbie, why wrapping the other around the man’s shoulder. He pulled him close to his chest, feeling the jackhammer heartbeat of the man. At least his breathing was getting back to normal. 

In the morning, though, Robbie had a lot to explain. 

______________________________________________________ 

Sportacus blinked a few times, his body telling him that it was time to get up. He glanced to his side, noticing that Robbie wasn’t there. In a flash he jerked up, scanning the airship for the man. 

To his relief he found Robbie sitting on top of the table, his eyes staring off into the space in front of him. It must have been extremely early for Robbie to be awake. 

The elf slipped out of bed, approaching his villain, “Good morning Robbie, you’re up really early.” He gave a concerned look when the man just gave a hum for a response, “Did you at least sleep well?” 

“As much as I could…” Robbie mumbled. He was still off, still upset about something. 

A sigh came from Sportacus as he stepped in front of the other, breaking the gaze he had with the nothingness. Tenderly he took the thin hands in his own, smiling softly, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” was the simple response Robbie gave. 

“Alright,” Sportacus nodded, he would have to give Robbie time before he revealed what had bothered him. It was another one to add to the list. He settled on asking another question, “Was yesterday your birthday?” This got a small reaction from the villain, “Why didn’t you tell me?” His heart sank once again, a wave of guilt washing over him. If it was his lover’s birthday he wanted to do something extra special for him! It was the first time he had ever had somebody so close to him with a birthday so he wanted to make it extra special. Yet, this time it wasn’t that way. 

“I didn’t think it would matter,” Robbie muttered, his gaze starting to drop, “Villains don’t get to celebrate their birthdays until they become functioning members of society.” 

The way he said it was like it was drilled into his brain. It made Sportacus shiver. He gently squeezed the hands in his, a smile forming, “That was before,” the smile grew when the gray-blue eyes focused back on him, “now, you get to celebrate it with me. To me,” Sportacus gave him a wide bright grin, “you are my villain, and you get a birthday celebration with me.” 

This got the man to smile, something the elf loved to see on his face. It was a genuine smile. He let out a laugh, leaning in to give Robbie a kiss on the lips, “Today we will do what you want, and I’ll have Bessie cook you the biggest cake.” 

Robbie let out a small laugh shaking his head, “Her cakes are terrible.” 

“Robbie,” Sportacus gave him a look, “You know that’s not nice to say.” 

A cheeky grin came to the villain, “I have fine tastes when it comes to cake.” 

“Alright, alright,” the elf nodded, “We’ll worry about the cake later. Right now,” He smile turned into a suave one, “it’s time for your gift.” 

“Oh?” Robbie had to stop himself from letting out a shrill squeak of excitement. This was going to be the first time he had gotten a gift on his birthday, and who better to give it than Sportafluff. 

He leaned closer to the fit elf, “What would that be?” His grin was interrupted when Sportacus once again smashed his lips against his, kissing him deeply. Letting out a soft hum, Robbie wrapped his arms around Sportacus’ shoulders, returning the passion and even slipping his tongue into the elf’s mouth. 

The strong arms wrapped around his waist before picking him, gently caring him over to the bed. He sat down with the villain still in his arms, breaking the kiss only to attack the man’s neck with pecks. 

They both fell into the bed, Sportacus continuing to tenderly kiss Robbie’s neck, his hand resting against his hips why the other craned his neck to give more room for the elf to kiss. Robbie raised on hand, letting it rest in the floofy mess of the elf’s hair, letting it gently pet through it on occasion. 

A few kisses later, Robbie raised his other hand, gently caressing Sportacus’ cheek, bringing his face to meet his own. A soft smile slipped on his lips before kissing the other man’s lips. 

“I love you,” Robbie whispered, letting his forehead rest against the other man’s. He blissfully smiled, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. 

“I love you too,” Sportacus returned the whisper, moving his hands to fully cup around Robbie’s jawline, “Happy birthday Robbie.”


End file.
